Sometimes
by flamablechoklit
Summary: -because the rest of the time, well... Strongly implied Shounen-Ai. Very Strongly. MxM.


**AN:** _OH MAI GOODNESS WHAT IS THISS???_ A story? A story longer than two pages?? Scandal, SCANDAL, I say!... Soooo, did you miss me? ^-^; -nervous laughter- Yes, so this was the first story I turned in for the creative writing class I am currently taking. For those of you who have read Beyond These Four Walls, it's the same class. ANYWAY! I got it back today and it got a B+ ;p Apparently the conflict is too vague (which I actually agree with but did purposely soo...yea... -.-) Ah well, I'll just have to DEMOLISH my instructor's braincells next tme. OH! And if you notice it randomly saying "Mel" out of dialouge, that's because the version I turned in for class had Mello being referred to as Mel. -shrug- I felt like it was more believable, even as just a nickname.

**Disclaimer:** -sigh- I gave my Matt-puppy permission to do this... , kthnxbye.

Yes, that was the lovely orangetintedvision with that bit of unreadable disclaiming... Anyway, Enjoy!  


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A bright red Mustang GTO jolted to a stop in the pouring rain, the left front hubcap scraping against the raised edge of the curb. Inside, a burgundy-haired youth let out a string of curses and began punching the steering wheel repeatedly, because this was not happening. His car didn't do this- didn't crap out in the worst possible part of L.A. during the worst possible weather. No sir, not his car, not his baby.

A frustrated sigh was followed up by more pummeling of the interior until it was realized that beating the car would accomplish nothing. A Camel Crush was soon lit in hopes of calming his nerves and after a few drags started to take effect. He felt the nicotine rush his system as he inhaled and briefly considered that maybe he really was an addict, but the thought vanished as quickly as it had come. Instead, he stared intently ahead at the windshield, attempting to see through the sheets of rain washing down it, and recalled what his reasoning had been in leaving the apartment in this weather to start with.

Oh, yes, that was right. He'd left to search the downtown area for his idiot of a roommate, who, for reasons unknown to the rest of humanity, thought biking in torrents of rain was a good idea. _Well_, the redhead thought, that wasn't _exactly_ why the other had left. They'd had a row or _something_, he wasn't exactly sure. He _supposed_ it must've been something he'd said, what with the way the other had looked at him and stormed out the door. Really though, he hadn't actually _meant_ anything by it…

_"I'll be out tonight. Don't lock the door if you pack it in early." It was said in passing, and the redhead's face suddenly appeared from behind the small fortress of monitors, one eyebrow raised in question._

_"Where to?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice. "You, like, meeting someone?"_

_"Someone," came the answer from the open bathroom door down the hall. Another crimson eyebrow rose, meeting its twin for a moment before the redhead rearranged his expression into one of aloof curiosity. He closed the laptop directly in front of him and set the other four monitors to sleep mode before standing and making his way down the hall. He leaned heavily against the wall, folding his gangly arms over his bare chest and stared pointedly at a crack in the ceiling._

_"Someone," he repeated, again careful not to sound too interested. There was a snort from inside the door._

_"Christ, Matt. Yes, someone!" a slight clattering noise followed and then, "When did my evening affairs become the opportunity for a round of Twenty Questions? I'm going out. End of story."_

_"Okay, okay, jeez," the redhead patted himself down, quickly locating his cigarettes and lighter in one of his back pockets, "Didn't mean anything by it." He'd wasted no time lighting up, meandering back the way he'd come and rolled his eyes at the sound of the hair dryer roaring to life. _

_It was only after he'd seated himself at the kitchen island that the other had come parading out and the redhead had choked on his inhale.  
"Where did you say you were going?" he sputtered, thumping his chest with a closed fist._

_"I didn't," his roommate answered, leather creaking as he leaned across the island to pluck the cigarette from Matt's loose grip. "Don't smoke over the worktop. I like my breakfast ash free, thank you." He stubbed it out on his own cowhide covered thigh and tossed it into the trash. "Seriously though, why do you care so much where I'm going?"_

_"I don't," the redhead mumbled. He watched the other shrug and move to snatch his keys from the hook on the wall. "Wait, Mel…"_

_"Hm?"_

_"You're not…" Matt lit up again, standing and walking around to the other side of the island, giving his roommate an up-down look over has he inhaled. "You're not actually going out in… that, are you?"_

Ok, so it had definitely been something he'd said, because from that point on Matt could only clearly remember raised voices. He recalled the other getting defensive, because what the hell was wrong with the way he dressed, and Matt had tried to explain, not so nicely, that there were certain implications and people would get the wrong idea, and then more yelling and a door slamming. That was about the size of it, Matt thought.

He ran a hand through his bangs, two fingers getting stuck in the strap of his nearly forgotten goggles. He retracted his hand to pinch at the white frame and lower them over his eyes. The world was suddenly in much better focus under the orange tint of the lenses, and Matt breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding.

"'Kay," he spoke aloud to the steering wheel, sitting up straight again in the driver's seat and adjusting the rearview mirror. "First, you're going to start again for me, then we're going to find Mel, go home, make some Easy Mac, and proceed to forget this night ever happened. Sound good?"

Silence.

"Good." Matt smiled, patting the wheel and turning the key in the ignition simultaneously. The engine rumbled for a moment and then died again. The redhead frowned slightly. "Come on, baby, you can do it," he encouraged, turning the key again. Nothing happened. "Look, I'm sorry for hitting you. Daddy was just stressed." He stroked the dashboard in apology. "I'll never do it again, okay? Promise." The third attempt was as fruitless as the previous two. "Baby, come on," Matt begged, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, "I'm really sorry, okay? I'll never, ever hit you again, and this weekend we'll change your oil and patch up the rip in the back seat. You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Again, silence.

"See, that's what I thought. Now please, please start." He bit his lip and turned the key. After a second, the engine sputtered to life and then purred easily, as if it has never stopped. Matt beamed and patted the dashboard again. "Good girl. Now, let's find Mel-"

The sudden rapping on his window startled Matt, causing him to hit his head on the low-set roof of the car. He turned and was met with the amused expression of his roommate, distorted by the waves of rain water pouring over the glass. The redhead blinked, slightly taken aback, but fumbled with the buttons under his left hand until a loud 'click' signified the power locks being released. His eyes followed the other's jog around the front of the car to the passenger side and only looked away as the door opened.

"Convince Lucy to start again, did you?" he chuckled, though Matt could tell he was making a serious effort not to shiver. The redhead didn't blame him; from his peripheral vision the other looked like a drowned cat. "I was on the verge of calling when I saw you stall out. Thought I'd let you finish your temper tantrum before I got your attention though."

"Lucinda," Matt said stoically, switching the car in to reverse and backing up a few feet. "Her name is Lucinda, not Lucy."

"Same difference." Matt's fists tightened around the steering wheel, his earlier frustration heating up again. He swallowed his retort, gritting his teeth and instead asking whether the other had eaten yet. "I could go for something," he shrugged. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel in here, would you? Even a rag or something?" Matt nodded, keeping one hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road, he fished around behind the passenger seat and brought up two semi-clean hand towels and dropped them in his roommate's lap. "Thanks."

The rest of the ride was silent, aside from the rain and the rustling of Mello drying his soaked hair as best he could with one towel, and peeling off his nearly-ruined jacket to wrap in the other. Matt was calming down again and he watched from the corner of his eye as his roommate shook his layered, blond hair out like some kind of cat. The action was oddly fitting and the redhead found himself snorting aloud, causing the other to look at him questioningly for a moment and then just roll his eyes in dismissal. They pulled up to the curb outside of the cheapest Chinese take out in the city, and Matt shrugged as the blond squinted one eye is disapproval.

"Come on," he sighed, opening his own door, "you just had it last week and look, you're still alive, aren't you?" The blond sighed dramatically but opened his own door nonetheless.

The inside looked just as unappealing as the outside had been, as far as Mello was concerned, but his stomach growled and he recalled that the only food back in the apartment consisted of instant noodles and some type of microwavable, grease monstrosity; this would have to do. He ordered a pound of fried rice and stared in abject horror at the amount of questionable substances Matt was shoveling in to his mouth across the table.

"Isn't the point of a 'take away' restaurant to actually take away the food and eat it at home?" Matt gulped down his Coke and considered this point for the briefest of moments.

"Well, the way I see it," he started and began working on another spork-full of chow mein, "they have a table. The table has chairs. Therefore, they don't give a shit whether or not you 'take away', so long as you buy the food." He swallowed and added, "Also, they most likely appreciate the fact that we're not robbing them. I bet they get that a lot." Mello snorted in amusement from across the table and Matt smiled slightly. He sipped his drink some more and watched his roommate pick around the bits of chicken in his meal. "It won't bite." He smirked as the blond looked up at him with a blank expression.

"I know," he said, exasperated. "I just don't trust the meat in this place."

"Mm," Matt hummed, averting his gaze to the storefront window to watch the still falling rain. For a moment he bit his bottom lip in indecision, but then seemed to push it aside and plowed forward with his thoughts. "So how was someone?" He kept his eyes trained on the rain outside. They both knew he wasn't really seeing it.

"Boring," Mello answered him, glancing up from his empty Styrofoam container. "Couldn't hold a conversation worth crap. Smelled like stale liquor. Shall I go on?" Matt shook his head.

"So, er-"

"Shut up," the blond interrupted him, smiling slightly and leaning onto his elbows. "It's my fault. We both know it is. I had no business provoking you like that, ok? Everything you said was justified." The redhead was wide eyed behind his goggles but simply nodded. Mello sighed loudly and then took up his roommate's previous occupation of staring out the window. "Honestly, I only did it to get a rise out of you."  
Silence, and then…

"I really hate you sometimes." There was no fight in the words. Mello smiled faintly, still watching the rain fall outside.

"Only sometimes?"

"Yeah."

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**flamable: **I love my reviewers forever!  
**ots: **IfYouReviewMelloWillStripFo'Yew!!!  
**flamable: **...No. No I won't.  
**ots: **PFFT!!! Lies.  
**flamable: **...


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